


It's Alright

by brokenlittleboy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom!Sam, First Time, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Mentions of hell, S9, top!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 12:59:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1388521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokenlittleboy/pseuds/brokenlittleboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not only does the blade make Dean have random bouts of alcoholism and irritability, it makes him unable to hide any emotions he feels. Dean confesses his love for Sam... the really not brotherly kind. Dean's bed suffers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Alright

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [【授权翻译】It's Alright | by：brokenlittleboy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1554503) by [whiyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiyn/pseuds/whiyn)



Sam didn’t really pride himself on much, but he was pretty confident about his talent of being  _really fucking aware_  of Dean and how Dean was feeling. It was like some sort of little brother weirdo connection that had been a part of him for as long as he could remember. 

And sure, yeah, the blade was making Dean irritable. And angry. And an alcoholic, definitely. Sam could tell Dean was struggling with the whole thing, with control. No matter how much he wanted to remain pissed at Dean, he couldn’t help but empathize incredibly with him. He didn’t want to, but he could relate with his older brother— he’d been through almost the same thing.

But there was another side effect of the blade that Sam was far more curious about. He couldn’t quite figure out  _why_  it happened, or what it had to do with the mark of Cain or whatever, but it was definitely something new so it could only be attributed to the latest shithole they’d dug themselves into.

Dean couldn’t hide any of his emotions,  _ever._ He was more than just an open book— he was an open book being projected to an entire class and read aloud with footnotes. If Dean felt upset with himself for not finding anything in his research, he’d say so. If he felt like shit, he wouldn’t cloak it like usual. His face displayed every tiny feeling that went through him with absolute honesty. Sam was getting pretty good at ignoring the things Dean probably didn’t want him to know about, and hiding how much it hurt when Dean accidentally said something bitterly about Sam (which happened more often than Sam would like to think about).

So when Dean told Sam that he loved him, Sam was completely and one-hundred percent thrown off his game.

When Dean turned his chair to face Sam and said it as if he were just asking Sam what he wanted for fucking lunch, Sam didn’t even  _process_  it at first. When his brain stopped rereading some sentence about knights of hell and told him what it had heard, he froze. The words on the table in front of him suddenly turned utter gibberish. He looked over at Dean, and swallowed. He couldn’t think.

"Uh… what?" he asked, voice softer and shakier than he would’ve liked. He tried to act casual, but that was fucking impossible. He couldn’t stop his eyebrows from scrunching together, his eyes from widening. 

Dean smiled at him faintly, eyes misting up. “You look like a fucking lost puppy right now,” he said, and his words sounded like a strange mashup of melancholy and affectionate. “You’re so damn cute when you do that, Sammy, and it’s like you don’t fucking notice. You don’t notice how damn attractive you can get. Fuck, I love you. I always have.”

Sam blinked.

"Dean-"

"And I don’t just mean a sort of brotherly love," Dean said breathlessly as he strode over to Sam. Sam stood up quickly, stumbling as his legs tangled with the chair. In no time at all Dean was right there, a eyelash width apart from him, staring at him with obvious lust. "I mean I _love_  you. How could I not? You’re all I’ve ever known, Sammy.”

Every single coherent thought Sam previously had went flying right out the window. He didn’t say anything. Dean’s eyes moved across Sam’s face, waiting.

Sam was panicking.

Demons? Sure. The other stuff he’d had to deal with because of the blade? Tolerable. Crowley? Easy. Standing directly in the line of fire? Like a fucking birthday party. He’d actually prefer that to this, really.

Dean seemed to snap and fit back himself after Sam couldn’t shut his mouth or form a single syllable.

"Shit," Dean muttered, backing up quickly. He looked at Sam for a split second, in horror, and then looked down again. "Oh my god. Shit."

Sam’s instinct to help Dean kicked in, whether he wanted it to or not. “No, it’s fine,” he sputtered quickly, for lack of anything else to say. “Dean, calm down. It’s okay.”

Dean’s face jerked back up to his incredulously. “It’s  _okay!?_  Sam, I just— No, no, shit, I just ruined all of it, I screwed it up, what have I done, you’re not going to be able to look at me, you’re going to leave, I’m going to be alone-“

"Dean!" Sam interrupted him. Something strange and indescribable made itself at home deep inside him. A sudden clarity made him smile at their antics. "Shut up, stupid. Even if you’d said you enjoy dressing up as a panda bear on Thursdays and humping other panda bears, I wouldn’t fucking  _leave._  You’re still you, I’m still me, okay? You didn’t change anything. Or change it for worse, I mean. I love you too, I think,” he blurted out, unable to stop the sudden torrent of words that rushed out of his mouth.

A silence hung between them for several moments, like a judge about to call out the verdict.

"Dressing up as a panda bear? Really, Sammy?" Dean questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Shut the fuck up!" Sam laughed. "You were in hysterics, dude. I didn’t have time to come up with a good example. I needed to do  _something_.”

"I was  _not_  in hysterics.”

"You keep telling yourself that."

Dean scoffed, waving a hand at Sam dismissively. He turned away, but his large, cheeky grin gave him away instantly. Sam didn’t think he’d seen Dean smile like that in  _years,_ strangely _._ The expression was almost foreign to him.

Dean asked him a question, but Sam was sort of too busy just kinda  _looking_  at his brother to notice. As brothers do, naturally. He shook himself out of his reverie, blushing, and noticed with worry that Dean was now frowning. “Huh?” he scratched the back of his head. “Sorry, what did you say?”

"Before, you said… you said you needed to do something to calm me down. So, uh, did you mean anything you said? Or were you just trying to get me to shut up? Because if you were, that’s totally fine. We can forget about all of this, if you want."

"Are you serious?!" Sam exclaimed, smiling at Dean in that way that only little brothers can manage when they’re looking at their older brother.

Dean looked away.

"Jesus christ, you are. Of _course_  I meant it, Dean. You told the truth, so then I did, too. I wouldn’t lie like that— I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Dean made a little strained sound, and looked at Sam as if he were  _really_  looking at him for the first time. “Sammy,” he said, just to hear it roll off his tongue.

Sam nodded, like a parent would to a kid trying to walk to the first time. He smiled automatically, dimples showing.

Dean moved forward, almost running, desperate to be touching Sam. He hugged him, wrapping his arms securely around Sam. Sam’s arms tugged him closer and kept him there, desperately, a tether keeping him grounded, keeping him safe.

"Calm down, kiddo," Dean whispered gently, voice cracking as something rose in his throat. Dean pulled back but kept Sam at arm’s length, frowning as he tried to read his little brother.

"It’s just, uh," Sam swallowed nervously, "I’ve really missed that."

Dean kissed him.

It was a little bit to shut him up, yeah, but Dean had wanted to kiss him since the beginning of time, and he wasn’t going to waste anymore time talking when he could finally tilt Sam’s head just the way he wanted to and pull Sam’s face to his with both of his hands and  _kiss him_. 

Sam kissed Dean back as if the fate of every person on every planet in the universe depended on him pressing all of his love into Dean’s mouth.

Dean moaned apologetically, which Sam didn’t even know was  _possible,_ and then stopped kissing him and stood back.

Sam whined in complaint, and stepped forward to meet Dean but Dean laughed and pushed him back softly, shaking his head. “If you, uh, if you’re all right with it, we’re not really going to get anything done standing in the middle of the bunker.”

Sam’s eyes opened impossibly wide. His red, swollen lips hung open, and Dean watched his throat work as he swallowed. His cheeks were darkening. “Oh, wow, I uh…” he trailed off, and Dean just shook his head again and took Sam’s hand, leading the way to Dean’s bedroom.

To  _Dean’s bedroom._

_Holy shit._

Dean looked back at him smugly. “It’s not often I can get you so damn quiet,” he boasted, and then  _winked._

To Sam’s credit, he tried to say something else, but it was beginning to get quite difficult to remember how to speak.

They walked in silence, and Sam’s head began to clear, and then all of sudden this felt awfully  _familiar_. He continued to trail after Dean, but his thoughts were racing into dark corners and he felt sick. When Dean opened the bedroom door it was as if the floor decided to fall out from beneath him and the walls were closing in.

Dean dragged him over to the bed and pushed him onto it. He leaned down and brushed Sam’s hair behind his ear and pressed his lips softly against Sam’s, urging his mouth open below his.

But Sam reared back, scrabbling backward onto the bed away from Dean, and whimpered, closing his eyes.

"Sammy?" Dean asked in confusion. 

Sam began to shake, and he couldn’t look at Dean,  _just couldn’t,_  and the room was too hot and too small and Sam _swore_  this had all happened before, only with some of the details different.

Dean didn’t need any further provocation, alarm bells ringing inside his head. As slowly and non-threateningly as he could manage, he lowered himself onto the bed next to Sam, who had backed his way up to the headboard and was sitting there with his knees drawn up. His eyes were now dull… more like accepting. He stared at the floor.

Dean leaned his head back against the wood and made sure not to touch Sam. He watched him out of the corner of his eye. “Sammy?” Dean asked tenderly. “Earth to Sam. You wanna tell me what’s going on, buddy? If you don’t wanna do this, that’s perfectly fine. No sweat. But you’re worrying the hell outta me, kiddo. I just wanna know what’s wrong so I can try to help. Sammy, please.”

Sam looked at him, and Dean was reminded of a deer frozen in the headlights, about to bolt. Sam was still shaking, and Dean wanted so badly to reach over and pull him close, but he wasn’t sure if Sam would want that. 

Sam smiled, but he looked as if he were in pain and none of the emotion reached his eyes. “No, I’m… I’m sorry. It was just something stupid. I was just being a freak. I’m better, I promise.” He sounded robotic, as if he were reciting something from memory. 

His eyes lowered again, avoiding Dean’s gaze.

"Sammy," Dean said, wincing at how much he sounded like their father. It did get Sam to nervously meet his eyes again, though. "This obviously isn’t something stupid. And you’re not a freak! Don’t hide all of that away. Something big just happened between us, and it’s alright to react. We’re gonna have to adjust. That’s natural. But if something’s eating at you, I wanna know what. It ain’t healthy to just let it eat at you, Sammy. I’m begging you to talk to me. Come on."

This time, Sam didn’t look away again. That was progress, if a minimal amount. He hugged his knees closer to his body. “I… I, uh, haven’t really thought about you like this since the beginning. I mean I’ve always loved you, obviously, but loving you like _this_  is more recent. I was in hell, and Lucifer would use you against me… at first it was just torture, and I was good at remembering that it wasn’t really you.

"But then it was… more, and when all you know is hell, I… I’d ask for it. I’d beg him to bring you back so we could… but afterward you’d just tell me how much you hated me, and you’d keep  _tearing me apart_  with Ruby’s knife… so I’m sorry to push you away, but this all feels a bit too familiar. I’m afraid if we… I’ll just be in hell again, I’ll be back again, I never left, and I _can’t_ …” He choked, shaking his head as a tear felt. He gasped, trying to breathe as his throat felt more and more like Lucifer’s hands were around it. 

Unable to help himself, Dean’s arm wrapped around Sam’s shoulders and rubbed soothingly up and down his arm, trying to calm him down. Sam sagged into his touch. 

"I also… the fact that I feel this from _hell,_  it feels so  _wrong…_  I don’t want to deal with that. I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m like this because of Lucifer, Dean, I mean, he did this to me. I’m so sorry. I do love you, But I’m so afraid about all of this I just—”

"Hey, hey, hey,  _shhhhhh._  Sammy, it’s alright. You’re okay, you got that? You’re out. Completely. And if I can help it, you will never, _ever,_  go back there. You understand? You’re here with me now, and you’re safe. And it’s fine to feel worried about that. It was hell, Sam— of course you’re not going to come away from that without a few scars. I mean shit, most people wouldn’t survive that. You are so brave. We can go back to work, alright? Put this on hold. But please don’t feel bad about loving me. I love you too, alright? Scars and all, you’re my Sam. Just try to keep remembering that you’re here now, that’s all I’m asking,”

Sam smiled thinly. He nodded. Sometime during all of that, he had stopped shaking, and his head was leaning against Dean’s shoulder. Dean reached up and ruffled Sam’s hair.

"Can we, uh… not go back to work, though?" Sam swallowed. "I mean, if you’re really you… then I want to try. I want to. I’m sorry I got so messed up. God, Dean, I love you. Shit, it’s like once I finally started saying it, I can’t stop. But I don’t want to never touch you because of what happened, even though I  _am_  scared. I want to feel safe with you.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. “You sure, baby brother?” he asked. “It’s your choice.”

Sam pulled away to look Dean square in the eye. “Yeah,” he said, smiling and biting his lips. “Just— thank you for listening to me. Thank you for what you said.”

Dean grinned easily. “Just doing my job,” he proclaimed, and then took Sam’s chin with his hand and gingerly tilted it up. Sam closed his eyes, which Dean took as in invitation to lean forward and kiss him again. Dean shifted and moved to straddle Sam to better kiss him. Sam’s hands fumbled and reached around Dean’s neck.

Sam groaned lowly against Dean’s mouth, and Dean felt his cock harden in his jeans. Grinding slowly against Sam, he urged Sam’s mouth open wider, pressing his tongue in. Sam was only too willing, sucking on Dean’s tongue and making the filthiest sounds.

Dean dragged away reluctantly, staring at the saliva stringing on Sam’s bottom lip. He sat up. “If you don’t mind,” he said, and started tugging off his shirt.

"No, you’re good," Sam responded weakly, staring blatantly at Dean’s chest. With a little bit of squirreling, he had his own shirt and thrown off into some corner. 

"Fuck," Dean muttered, and they were both panting, staring at each other with dark, heavy-lidded eyes. "I can’t take anymore of this Sammy, my dick’s gonna fucking pop out of my pants." With that, he unbuttoned them and wiggled out of them along with his boxers, fully-erect cock springing out, the head already shining with precome. 

Sam’s mouth hung open. “Dude…” he said in a strangled voice. “Jesus, you’re so…  _thick,_ ”

"You gonna do anything about that or are you just gonna keep staring?" Dean growled, smirking.

Sam’s mouth definitely moved, but nothing came out except for a strained moan.

"Here," Dean murmured breathily, "I’ll help you with that." He reached down to Sam’s pants, which were bulging with a growing wet stain, and unbuttoned them. Sam finally gained enough sense to help Dean by sliding his pants and boxers off of his hips, and then Dean tugged them all the way off and tossed them away. 

Then, it was Dean’s turn to be speechless.

They’d seen each other naked before, sure, but it’s not like Dean had ever  _examined_  Sam. That is, until now.

Sam was _huge._ His dick was ridiculously long and veiny, and he was completely shaven everywhere, as opposed to Dean’s wiry hair. His head was big and bright red, and his cock jumped when Dean made an appreciative noise in the back of his throat.

In a split second, Dean was back to being pressed flat against his brother, kissing him hungrily and possessively. His hips moved like a wave as he grinded and rubbed his dick against Sam’s, enjoying the electric feeling he got from it.

Sam whimpered against Dean’s lips and his hips arched desperately up against Dean’s, arms reaching around Dean to claw down his back. Dean moved away from Sam’s mouth and bit at his neck, sucking at where it met with his collarbones. Sam bucked below him, whining pathetically.

"You still sure?" Dean asked breathlessly, sitting up and looking down at his brother.

Sam tried to muster a confident smile and nodded. Dean leaned over and dragged open a desk drawer, pulling out a bottle of lube before pushing it shut. He got up slightly and moved backward, Sam spreading his legs to make room for Dean. Crouching between his thighs, Dean looked back up at Sam. Sam rolled his eyes. “Uhm, please get on with it,” he gasped.

Dean popped the bottle open and slathered a healthy amount over his fingers. He tossed the lube aside, not caring to see where it went. He circled his fingers around Sam’s hole and Sam jerked, shuddering. “That’s kind of cold,” he muttered.

"You’re gonna have to get used to it," Dean chuckled, slowly pressing one finger into Sam.

Sam had a petty response formulated, but the feeling of Dean gradually working him open made him forget everything he was thinking about.

"You good?" Dean questioned quietly.

Sam responded by desperately trying to lower himself onto Dean’s fingers, to get Dean deeper inside him. Dean practically _purred_  with satisfaction, not giving Sam any warning when he pressed two, and then three, fingers into his brother and sped up his pace.

"You’re so nice n’ tight, Sammy," Dean growled, "So nice n’ warm for me."

Sam gave a long, drawn-out moan. “Need you… inside me,” he begged, pulling in air as if he’d never breathed before.

Dean finger-fucked Sam for a moment longer, pressing deeper and deeper, before pulling out his fingers. He spread Sam’s long, gangly legs further apart with one hand and used other to guide his dick to the opening of Sam’s ass, leaning forward to bite at Sam’s lip and press inside him at the same time. 

Sam gasped again, hands scrabbling for purchase in the sheets as Dean began moving his hips. Sam’s legs hooked around Dean’s waist, trying to shove Dean deeper inside him. Sam whimpered, their noses brushing as Dean looked down at his brother.

"Dean," Sam choked, reaching a hand up to shakily trace Dean’s jawline.

Dean smiled, moving his face closer but not yet kissing him. “Yeah, it’s me,” he replied lovingly, and Sam could feel Dean’s eyelashes brush against his own.

"Dean," Sam said again, and Dean kissed all of Sam’s worries away, pressing all of their pent-up emotions and fucked-up problems into that one action. All of their love, too.

Sam’s hands were grabbing at his back, curled around Dean’s neck and holding securely onto him.

Dean swiveled his hips slowly, trying to purvey with his movements that he would never hurt Sam, that this was okay, that Sam was gonna be okay.

That, despite everything, they both would be.

Sam moved up against him, and they worked in tandem, stretching Sam wider open. Dean’s movements became faster, quicker, and he jerked against Sam, breaths shuddering in and out, in and out. Dean’s hands went up to Sam’s hair and tugged at it. Balls deep in his brother, he fucked him faster and faster, and they held onto each other as if when they let go, everything would disappear. 

Sam turned his head away and his eyes fluttered shut.  _"God,_ " he whined, "more please, Dean… please,"

"Alright, baby boy," Dean murmured at the corner of Sam’s mouth, and his hips snapped as he sucked at Sam’s bottom lip and fucking let loose. His balls slapped loudly against Sam’s ass, and the bed creaked, the bed posts slamming against the walls. Sam’s fingers were clawing into his back, and Dean guessed he’d find scratches and cuts there later. 

Dean choked back a groan and pulled on Sam’s long hair, kissing Sam messily and deeply. He arched back and drove into Sam roughly, Sam’s arms sliding down to cup his ass and pull him closer.

Sam started breathing heavier and heavier, and then he came with a shout, toes curling as he yelled Dean’s name loud enough to be heard all over the bunker.

Dean couldn’t help but follow soon after, covering the sound of his voice whispering Sam’s name like a mantra by shoving his mouth against Sam’s neck. Dean pulled out and then rolled over to lay next to Sam, mouth hanging open as he hurriedly drew in breath after breath. 

Sam was finishing himself off, bony fingers pulling at his dick before his arms flopped limply at his side. “Jesus christ,” he rasped, “Dean, that was…”

Dean tried to laugh it off casually, but it sounded more like he was choking on something. “Yeah, you’re fucking right. That was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

"You’re telling me," Sam retorted. 

Sam snuggled up against Dean, warm skin against skin. He threw his legs over Dean and latched onto him like a friggin’ octopus, burying his head in the crook of Dean’s neck. Dean would’ve said he wasn’t one for cuddling, but he’d be lying. Resting his chin on top of Sam’s head, he ran his fingers down Sam’s spine and over the scar at the bottom, and then back up. He drew lazy circles on Sam’s shoulders and enjoyed the familiar, comforting smell of his little brother.

Sam moved a little closer, pressing in as close as he could get. “Thank you,” he whispered, lips close enough to Dean’s neck for Dean to feel his breath ghosting over his skin.

"Any time, Sammy," Dean smiled, scooting down a little bit to get comfortable.

Within moments, Sam’s breathing slowed, and Dean closed his eyes, enjoying the simple feel of everything. Maybe that damn blade wasn’t the worst thing that had happened to them. 

Burying his nose into Sam’s hair, Dean luxuriated in the safeness and tenderness of the moment, and fell asleep. 


End file.
